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Welcome to Tigressland, my own personal little corner of the Internet where I hang out expressing my views about the smaller things in life. No controversy here (I'm saving that for the book lol) just the everyday minutiae that add up to my rather unpredictable, but always fun, life! So pull up a cushion and come chill.....and follow! We bloggers love it when you follow ;-) ~Tigress

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Friday, 8 May 2015

Fast cars and even faster pussy.....cats.

Let me share with you my week.

Actually I'll share two
of them, just for good measure.

After some person, who shall remain
nameless (coz I actually have no idea who he/she was), bumped his/her piddly
arsed little vehicle into the right rear of the Holden a few weeks back....our
car was finally able to get repaired this week (busy chappies apparently). But as
I had several appointments to keep this fortnight, my beloved organized a
rental vehicle for me.

Enlisting the help of the Gypsy Niece and
her beloved silver Hyundai, we tootled off to Fremantle to pick up said rental, and then proceed to have lunch at one of
the fine local eateries. And all was going well until I was escorted to the yard....and
much to Gypsy Niece’s delight and amusement, handed the keys to a shiny, white..

You guessed it:

Hyundai.

A Hyundai ‘Accent’ to be precise.

Now let’s just take a moment here.

After being accustomed to negotiating greater
Perth in a Holden SV6 I was now being treated to a swift reminder as to why I
enjoy negotiating greater Perth in a Holden SV6....as opposed to a Matchbox toy with ideas above its station. Transferring to the Hyundai
was akin to going from a Sherman tank to geriatric Jeep. Yes, I know the little roller
skate is all economical and whatnot but it also has about as much testicular
fortitude as a half-roasted peanut. And that. I feel, is being a little harsh on
the peanut.

Needless to say my Hyundai tales have been a point of
humour all week...mostly not mine.

It wouldn't be so bad if some other people
didn't drive like pillocks. I am not sure what it is about indicators, but
people often seem to think they are optional....especially when taking the
second exit on a roundabout. No you are not ‘just going straight ahead’ you are
entering a roundabout and should indicate wherever and whenever you leave the
damn thing, regardless of which exit you take. It’s not rocket
science...seriously.

But to add to the fun and games, I had to
take the kittens to the vet for their follow up appointment and as they had
already found it necessary to completely circumvent their cones and each pull a
stitch out....the vet was less than impressed. Long story short...accompanied
by the fact that they couldn't sit still if their furry little lives depended
on it, they now have fat little tummies that need monitoring each week until
the swelling goes completely down.

Most humans following abdominal surgery
like to kick back and relax; but not these two clowns....not only have Merlot
and Shiraz found it hugely entertaining to gallop around like demented school
children, they have also developed an insatiable desire to climb on a person as
soon as one bends over....requiring the need to either hunchback of Notre Dame
yourself to the nearest chair in the hope they'll dismount, or stand up and thus have them perch on your shoulder like a fluffy, whiskered parrot.

Despite their avian tendencies however,
they are still managing to recover well. And surprising enough, they love the
flavour of their anti, inflammatory medication.

Little druggies.

Another foray I took in my petitemoblile was
to the ‘boob place’. Now in all fairness they scan any part of your body you so
desire, but as I desire to keep my boobs, I had them scan those. Now as my last
titty cancer was in an awkward spot (I am nothing if not the queen of awkward)
it was only picked up on ultrasound (well, actually, it was picked up by
me...then an ultrasound). So not only were my ample mammaries squished within
an inch of their life, they were also gelled up and checked for 'things what don’t
belong' that way as well.

I can think of worse ways to spend an hour, I guess (thankful for modern technology and stuff).
And of course, because the left one has received most of the attention over the
last five years...the right has decided it wants to feel special. “It is most
probably absolutely nothing, but we would love your previous films from New
Zealand...just for comparison.” Which simply involves me sending a letter to my
Mama, giving her authority to uplift said films from my previous hospital in NZ
(What’s the betting that after she reads this, I get a Viber message, saying
something to the effect of: “Why the hell haven’t you sent me the bloody letter.”
Quite delicately spoken is my Mum.)

I’ll do it after this Mum...I promise.

Now to its credit, despite all this gallivanting
around (which also included trips to the supermarket, and a local second-hand
shop where I volunteer) the little snot-beetle has yet to drop under half a
tank. And it is definitely easy to park.

But it doesn’t really like moving in a
hurry. You put your foot down and it has to think about what needs to happen
next. It’s sort of like you’re speaking a foreign language to it through a
translator.

“Oh ‘accelerate’ means move faster?? Oooooh, ok, ok, I do that now.”

“Thanks, thanks for coming to the party on
that one. A little earlier would have been nice, but hey”

And as for anything involving a slope...

"What? You want me to go just as fast....UPHILL?!"

"Yes, yes I do."

"But it's hard work!"

"You'll be fine"

"I dunno, I think I feel my carburettor starting to give."

"If you don't don't shift your whiny arse up this hill, I swear to God, I'll have your spark plugs for earrings!

"Oh right you are then"

And off we go.

I know, I know, I should just be grateful
to have something with motorized wheels, but I can’t say I'll be emotional when
it goes back.